He Danced to Get Away
by TheVictorianMuse
Summary: AU. Sasori saw the boy two times before the incident. But the boy had died. Deidara had killed himself. So why, two days later, was he standing in Sasori's bedroom? And why can't he talk, other than to bed Sasori to 'Help him? Rated M for gore, death, and possibly smut. Yaoi and abuse.
1. Prologue

((Hello my wonderful readers! I'm trying my hand at something a little different with this story! Please leave a review and tell me what you think of this prologue! Thank you so much!))

**Prologue**_**XXX**_

The first time he'd seen him, he had just been another face in the crowd. Sasori Akasuna had stepped off the bus just like he did every morning, on his way to University. The thing that caught his eye was the boy's long, blonde hair. The thing that _kept_ his eye was his round, sweet face. But there was a forlorn, far off look in the boy's piercing blue eyes. It was almost as if he was being sucked down into the depths of them. They almost looked like they were brimming with tears. Of one thing he was certain.

The boy looked scared.

The second time he'd seen him, it was in the newspaper two days later. No, he hadn't won some prestigious award. He hadn't been interviewed about his political views, or about his opinion on the state of the local wildlife. He'd caught a glance of the boy's face in a completely _different_ section. His picture, which was in black and white and showed him sporting that same frightened stare, was on every ones least favorite page. The obituaries. Sasori couldn't help but cover his mouth with his shaking hand as he read the paragraph underneath the picture of that cherub face teen.

'_Deidara Iwa, aged 18, died in the early hours of September 13__th__, just two days ago. He took his own life, but the reason why is unknown. He is survived by his mother, Konan Iwa, and his father, Nagato Iwa. Deidara was senior at Konoha Valley High, who enjoyed spending time with his best friend, Itachi, and most of all, art. He was a sculptor, a drawer, a dancer, and an aspiring pyrotechnic. He had been accepted to the Crane School of Performing Arts for the Fall of 2012. He was going to major in Contemporary Dance and Drama, with a minor in Pyrotechnics. Services will be held Saturday, September 18__th__ at the Seymour Funeral Home in Potsdam.'_

By the time Sasori finished reading, it felt like there were a vice gripping his head. He had just seen that boy, alive and breathing, two days ago. That frightened look in his eye…that same look was staring up at him now, from his picture in that god awful newspaper. Sasori had to swallow to calm himself.

The third time he'd seen him was later that night. Sasori had just woken up from a fitful dream, and the boy was standing at the foot of his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Sasori was frozen in his bed. He stared, unblinking, at the young man who was standing at the foot of his bed. He head was hanging down, his long blonde hair shielding his face from sight. His arms hung limply at his sides, and he was inhumanly still. It didn't even look like he was breathing. There was a foul stench in the air, filling up the whole room. The stench of death, of decay. It was stifling. Sasori didn't dare to move, or to make any sort of sound. He laid there, stock still, watching this…boy.

Suddenly, there was a wet gurgling sound. The boy slowly lifted his hanging head, to reveal his face. It still had the same sweetness and roundness that it had before, when Sasori first met him, but now the big blue eyes were red and bloodshot and lifeless. As they bore into Sasori's own frightened eyes, they seemed almost to draw him in. But there was nothing there, no proof that he was alive. Those blue eyes were wide and glassy…empty of all emotion. The gurgling grew louder, and then blood began to bubble out of the corners of the boy's mouth. And then there was more, it poured out of his mouth, down his chin, and splattered onto the hardwood floor.

And then he spoke. It was quiet, muffled by the sheer amount of blood in his mouth.

"Help me." The voice was just as lifeless as the boy's eyes.

Sasori's skin was crawling. What the fuck was happening? What this boy a zombie? Was he a ghost? He had no idea. He didn't look like he wanted to hurt Sasori, but he was supposed to be dead. He was spitting up blood all over his bedroom floor. He was supposed to be _dead_.

"Help you? Help you with what? What's wrong?" He almost didn't trust his voice. It came out shaky, just like he thought it would. He hands were shaking now, too, as they gripped his sheets tightly. His eyes widened as the boy began to shake, even more blood pouring from his mouth.

"Help me." Was all he said. Sasori stood up, his legs almost giving out from underneath him as his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. He ran the few steps to the boy, and bravely reached out to touch him.

"Help you with _what_?" He asked, trying to turn the boy so he was facing him. It worked, his upper body turned to face Sasori…but his bottom half didn't follow. His spine snapped, a loud, disgusting crack filled the room. "Oh…G-God!" Sasori murmured, and he felt bile rise in his throat.

"Help me." The boy repeated, some of the blood from his lips splattering onto Sasori's cheek. He wanted to vomit. He fought through it, though, and twisted Deidara's body around so it was back on straight, a loud POP indicating his spine was back in place.

"Help me. Help me." He repeated it, probably attempting to sound urgent. It didn't work though, as his voice was void of inflection. There was more and more blood, a seemingly unending supply of it was pouring from the boys delicate lips. It was thick and dark red, coagulated from the boy's decay.

"Come with me to the bathroom. Can you walk?" Sasori reached out to grab the boy's bare arm. His skin was ice cold, but what had he expected? The boy was dead. He pulled Deidara toward him again, and this time his lower half followed. He walked on shaky, unsure legs as Sasori lead him to his bathroom.

Once they were there, Sasori tried to sit the boy down on top of the toilet seat. He was unsuccessful, because the boy's legs wouldn't bend. And then suddenly, his arms wouldn't bend. Sasori tried to press his fingers into the boys skin, and it was stiff and hard as a rock. The red head took a deep breath.

Rigor mortis. This boy really was dead.

"Shit. You can't move, can you? I'm just going to wet a cloth and wipe off the blood, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." Sasori said, looking over the younger male with confused eyes. What was he supposed to do with this boy? Should he call the cops? The _morgue_? He had a dead boy spitting up blood in his bedroom…now in the bathroom…would they believe he was already dead when he got here? No, they would most likely blame Sasori for his death. But…the boy had died earlier that day! His parents had found him dead!

Sasori looked down at Deidara's wrists. Sure enough, on each one there was a wide, gaping gash. He must have cut himself hard, deep…he must have been angry when he died. Then why was he begging Sasori to help him now? Did he regret doing it? Did he regret killing himself? Or did he want Sasori to help him get to the other side? Did he need help passing on?

But there was an even bigger question nagging at Sasori's mind. Why _him_? Why did this boy come to Sasori of all people? Why didn't he go to his parents? How did he even _find_ Sasori? He needed these questions answered. Until then, he couldn't go to the police. He couldn't go to anyone. And right now, Deidara couldn't speak. He couldn't even _move_. And Sasori had a feeling, when the boy did regain his muscle control, all he would be able to say is 'help me'. And that didn't get them anywhere.

With these thoughts in his head, Sasori grabbed a cloth from underneath the sink, and soaked it in warm water from the faucet. He ringed it out, and turned towards the boy. Gently, he wiped away all the blood that had begun to crust on the boy's mouth, chin, neck, and chest. Most of it was on the boy's flimsy shirt, so once Sasori was finished with the cloth, he dropped it in the sink and tore off the boy's nasty, bloody shirt. He tossed it into the sink, too, making a mental note to burn both of them later.

Now that Deidara was clean, Sasori took in his beauty up close for the first time. He was a slender, short, all around petite boy. He had big, blue eyes, which were now sadly clouded over with cataracts. His hair was long and blonde, but it had fallen out of its elastic band. Said black band was hanging loosely from the golden strands, attached only by a snarled clump of hair. Sasori snagged it free, and held it up to show the boy.

"I'm going to put your hair up, so it's out of your face, okay?" He told the younger male, before reaching out and gathering the thick hair up in ponytail, securing it with the band. He pulled back and admired his work. Now he could take in the entirety of Deidara's face. Even in death, he was the single most beautiful thing Sasori had ever seen. "When the rigor mortis wears off, we'll get you in the shower, okay?"

Deidara groaned, a deep, strangled sound that tore at Sasori's heart.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Deidara. I'll help you. I know this must be so scary…but I'm here for you." He said, as calmly as he could. But…how _was_ he going to help the boy? He didn't know anything about…this kind of stuff. He was an English major…studying to become a teacher.

As he thought of his University, that's when it hit him. He knew exactly who could help him with this fucked up situation.

The Hyuuga sisters.


	3. Chapter 3

He had to call Itachi first, before he contacted the Hyuuga sisters. What shocked him the most though, was how his best friend reacted to everything Sasori told him over the phone. There was no doubt…no disgust. He didn't even ask if Sasori needed his head examined.

All Itachi said was, 'I'll need to bring Sasuke.'

Sasuke was Itachi's baby brother. He was only eight months old, and since their parents died in a car crash, Itachi had stepped up to care for the baby. And he did a truly amazing job, even dropping down to part-time status at their University to spend more time with Sasuke. And when he did go to class, he brought Sasuke and dropped him off at the day care center they had on campus. It was mainly staffed by high school students looking for extracurricular activities to pad their transcripts with. It had a very good reputation. And wherever Sasuke went, he was always the center of attention

Sasori's apartment was no different.

Sasori had sat Deidara down at his kitchen table before the brothers arrived. The rigor mortis had worn off enough for the blonde boy to bend his knees so he could sit down on the hard wood chair. He was staring blankly ahead at the wall, his mouth slack. No more blood came from it, which was a plus.

"Now…I have friends coming over. Itachi is my closest friend…so please don't spit blood on him…or try to eat him. I'm sorry if this sounds stupid to you but I don't know what you're capable of. He's bringing his baby brother too…don't eat him, either." Sasori said awkwardly as he paced back and forth in front of the table. He watched an emotion flash across Deidara's big blue eyes at the mention of the baby, before they grew dull again.

There was a knock on the door then, and Sasori stared at the door for a moment, before he walked forward and opened it. Deidara remained motionless, staring at the wall. Itachi walked in slowly.

"Are you sure he's not going to…bite?" His voice was low and calculated. He spoke in hushed tones all the time now, from always being with Sasuke. The baby boy liked things to be very quiet. The only time he would ever get fussy was if there was too much noise.

Well, they didn't need to worry about Deidara being too loud. He still hadn't made a sound, but he had noticed the two brothers arrive, because he turned his head towards them. Now…normally, when someone turned their head, it's not frightening at all. But the way Deidara did it sent shivers down Itachi's back. One minute, the blond had been facing the wall. Itachi had looked away to say something to Sasori, and when he looked back, the undead boy was facing them…but they were behind him. He'd turned his head a full 180 degrees.

Itachi nearly dropped the carseat. "My GOD! Sasori…what the?" He was speechless for the first time in his life. Sasori pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know…you should have seen him earlier. He was spitting up blood everywhere…and he went through rigor mortis. He really is dead. I don't know _how_ it happened, or _why_ he came here. He can't talk; all I've heard him do so far is groan. Like an _actual_ zombie, Itachi. It's so weird. He just…sits there and stares." Sasori explained. The redhead then walked towards the kitchen table and sat down. Itachi looked apprehensive.

"Are you sure it's okay to bring Sasuke-chan in there? He's not going to try and hurt him, is he?" The nineteen-year-old asked nervously as he set the car seat down on the floor and picked up the quiet baby boy. Deidara's eyes widened and he turned his head back around, and the sickening cracks of his spine made Itachi cringe.

As Itachi passed by the boy, Sasuke reached out suddenly, whining desperately. Itachi stopped walking, looking down at his precious baby brother.

"What's wrong, Sasuke?" he asked softly. The infant just whined louder, reaching down until he finally grabbed fistfuls of Deidara's clean tank top, which Sasori had put on him after the incident with the blood. Sasori watched as Deidara's blank eyes filled with life. It was almost like someone had turned the lights on in his head. The redhead looked up at his best friend.

"You're going to think I'm crazy…but put Sasuke in his lap." He said seriously. Itachi's gasped.

"What? Sasori…what if he tries to hurt him?" To say Itachi was nervous would be an understatement. He loved his baby brother more than anything in the world. He would never, _ever_ want to put him in danger. Sasori shook his head.

"He won't, I swear! Just…trust me on this one."

Swallowing a sick feeling that was rising in his throat, he set his small baby brother in Deidara's lap. Sasuke stood on his shaky little legs, using Deidara's shirt for leverage. He looked up at the blond with his big, expressive black eyes and smiled, cooing softly. The corners of Deidara's chapped lips turned upwards slightly. And just then, he did something miraculous. He brought both of his arms up, which alarmed Itachi at first…until he realized that the blonde was now cradling Sasuke so he wouldn't fall off his lap.

He was still staring straight ahead, a sad, far off look in his eye. Paired with the small smile, he looked positively pitiful. As Deidara held him, Sasuke leaned against him, so they were chest to chest. The baby was cooing softly, patting Deidara's shirt soothingly, almost like he _knew_ what was going on. Deidara continued to smile softly, staring at the wall.

When Itachi picked his baby brother back up, it was like all the life was sucked back out of Deidara. His arms fell back to his sides, and his face went slack. Sasuke whined a little bit, but soon cuddled into his big brothers neck and fell asleep. Itachi raised his eyebrows at his best friend.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" He asked, his mind dizzy with possibilities. Why had Sasuke reached out to the boy? Why had he seemed so happy to be in his lap? Itachi stared harder at Deidara as he sat down across the table from him, right in the dead boy's line of sight. It was more than awkward to have those emotionless blue eyes boring through his skull. He racked his brain, thinking hard…and then, as he remembered the way Deidara had cradled his brother, it hit him.

"What did you say his name was again?" Itachi asked Sasori, breaking the silence that hung in the air. Sasori released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Deidara. Deidara Iwa."

Itachi face brightened with realization. "That's it! I know why Sasuke was so happy to see him! He's the kid that watched Sasuke while he was at the Kiddie College at the University! He was on scholarship to go there in the fall! I was the one who filed his paperwork in Admissions!" Itachi explained. Sasori nodded, smiling slightly.

"Yeah. He was going to major in Dance and uh…pyrotechnics, I think. That's what it said in his…in his Obituary." Both young men went silent. Deidara had an _obituary_. Deidara was _dead_. And yet…he was sitting at Sasori's kitchen table, staring off into what they suspected was nothingness.

"I guess it's high time we call Hinata and Hanabi." Itachi whispered.


End file.
